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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628829">Those Deserving</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghastly_lemons/pseuds/Ghastly_lemons'>Ghastly_lemons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Protection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>DH compliant, Dramione is only mentioned, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not a lot of angst, Pansy needs a bit of a rescue, Post War, Ron weasley is a good guy, Trying to move on</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:08:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghastly_lemons/pseuds/Ghastly_lemons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson is just trying to live her everyday life after the Battle of Hogwarts, but people remember her trying to turn Harry Potter over to Voldemort and aren't so willing to let her be. When she's dealing with another bout of harassment however, help comes from an unexpected quarter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Protection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Those Deserving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was wondering where to take my fic 'Protection' next and suddenly this smutty little plot bunny reared it's weird little head and refused to stop bothering me. So obviously that means everyone must suffer through it. You don't have to have read 'Protection', but it may help. And I have no idea how this will effect 'Protection' because I am intentionally planning that fic out as I write it instead of putting great forethought into it like I normally would.</p><p>Set alongside <i>Chapter 3- Ash</i> of 'Protection'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The young woman hurried along through a snowy Diagon Alley, her bobbed hair charmed blonde and eyes downcast as she drew her expensive black robes around her to avoid meeting the eyes of the other shoppers. She just needed to get to the apothecary and then back home quickly, it’d be easy.</p><p>Just before she could turn down the concealing gloom of Knockturn Alley to get to the only apothecary that would still serve her, a large hand shot out and grabbed her arm in an almost painful hold, hauling her backwards into Diagon Alley again.</p><p>“Well well well, who do we have here?” The handsome blonde man who’d grabbed her held her arm up higher, forcing her onto her toes and making her lift her head. “You’re that Parkinson bitch. What the fuck are you doing out of Azkaban?”</p><p>Pansy tried to keep her cool, not showing the man any fear. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” She stated icily, her dark eyes meeting his squarely. She figured there was no point hiding now and directed all of her disdain directly at the lout.</p><p>“Oh we’ve met, I was the year above you at Hogwarts. You always thought you were too good for everyone else, now look at you. Scurrying into Knockturn like the rat you are. What are you buying down there, traitor?” The man’s face was twisted into an ugly sneer, and he shook her arm on the last word, jarring her shoulder painfully.</p><p>“That is none of your business!” She grit out, trying to pull away from his ever-tightening grip. She knew she’d be bruised tomorrow, and she wondered if she had some bruise paste left at home. She always seemed to need it after going out in public.</p><p>“It is <i>everyone’s</i> business what a Death Eater Slu-“ The man was cut off by a freckled hand landing on his shoulder with enough force to make him sag momentarily.</p><p>“Let the lady go, McLaggen. Then kindly bugger off back where you crawled out from.” The new man was standing behind McLaggen and Pansy could only see the side of his frayed beanie behind the head of the arrogant blond. The long fingers dug hard into McLaggen’s shoulder until he let go of Pansy’s arm with a sneer over his shoulder.</p><p>“Whatever. Thought your lot would appreciate the help keeping everyone safe.” McLaggen turned on his heel and stormed off back through the small crowd that had gathered during their altercation. Pansy turned away to leave as well when the same hand that had rescued her abruptly stuck itself in front of her face to stop her.</p><p>“Alright, everyone can move along now.” The lanky man turned his head to peer at Pansy as he stood between her and the crowd. “You alright Parkinson?”</p><p>Pansy gaped at him. “Weasley? What are you playing at?”</p><p>Ron Weasley dropped his hands and shoved them into the pockets of his scuffed Muggle pants and chuckled dryly. “Yup, you’re fine. Catch ya round Parkinson.” He turned to walk away, casual as anything and began sauntering off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.</p><p>Pansy saw the dark looks she was still getting from the crowd, and realised that insulting a war hero was a bad move to make when she couldn’t just apparate out without sprinting to the nearest apparition point.</p><p>“Wait! Wait.” She grabbed the arm of Weasley’s home knitted jumper between two fingers then dropped it as soon as he stopped to look back at her curiously. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect anyone to… help.” She looked to the side, the admission burning her tongue.</p><p>Weasley turned back fully to her with his eyes narrowed in distaste. “Happen a lot?”</p><p>Pansy realised with a start that for the very first time since she’d met Weasley at the tender age of eleven, that expression of distaste wasn’t actually directed at her. To cover her embarrassment, she shrugged diffidently. “Well you know, wrong side of the war and all that. Not to mention completely losing my head and trying to get your best friend killed.” The bitterness in her tone surprised even her.</p><p>What surprised her more was Weasley chuckling again and stepping up to her side. “Yeah, Harry showed me the letter you sent. Didn’t know you knew how to spell ‘sorry’.” Before she could retort with something nasty about his own literacy or lack thereof, he continued. “Where are you going? I’m not busy so I’ll walk you there.”</p><p>Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him haughtily. “And why on earth would you do that?”</p><p>“Your call, but if that’s happening a lot I thought you might need an escort.” Weasley raised his pale brows into his fringe and stared down at her with his bright blue eyes. “So what’ll it be?”</p><p>Pansy shifted uncertainly, fiddling with the buttons on her cloak. “But… why? I was horrid to you?” She hated sounding weak, but her desire not to have an altercation was quite strong. She was fairly sure Weasley was too unspeakably noble to do anything to her if she just walked off, but the last few months had taught her to be wary.</p><p>“Well, I reckon if Hermione can be friendly with Malfoy, then I can be nice enough to save you from prats like McLaggen.” The ginger man made a comically sour face at the mention of the Malfoy name, but Pansy got the feeling he was just being funny.</p><p>“Draco and Granger? What?” Pansy’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t heard from Draco in months, but probably nothing Weasley could have said would have shocked her more.</p><p>Weasley outright laughed, loud and full. “I know! Apparently your boyfriend was keeping tabs on her, Luna, and Dean. Something about trying to keep them safe. Hermione says he’s actually been <i>nice</i> to her, if you can believe that!” He continued to chortle as though it was all some grand joke and not a possible sign of Ragnarök.</p><p>Pansy absolutely couldn’t believe that, and resolved to write to Draco at the earliest opportunity to figure out what in the name of Merlins twisty wand was going on with him. For now, maybe she could pump Weasley for information, he was always the dimmest in the Golden Trio. “Not my boyfriend, not for years now.” She said absently and looked up Knockturn Alley. “Look, if you want to come with me, I need to head to the apothecary. But… Maybe as thanks, I’ll buy you a butterbeer after?”</p><p>Weasley sniggered and gestured for her to lead the way with a careless wave. “As long as you don’t poison me or something.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Pansy stomped daintily off down the dingy Alley.</p><p>-</p><p>Two hours later Pansy was sitting across from Weasley in The White Wyvern with the second round of butterbeers in front of her and wondering what in the name of Nimue and Morgana she was doing swapping war stories with a man she’d spent quite a lot of time hating.</p><p>“It was so awful, I’m not sure what was worse, desperately trying to help Draco coach the little ones on how to fake being tortured or having to stand there while Vince enjoyed the hell out of torturing kids.” She shuddered. “I never realised how sick he was until the Carrows handed him carte blanche to do whatever he liked.”</p><p>“Yeah, Gin has told me a fair bit about what went on at Hogwarts last year. Sounds like all of you had it pretty bad.” Weasley’s long face was solemn as he stared into his butterbeer. “I doubt anyone had a good year.”</p><p>Pansy bit her cheek to stop herself from crying. “Yeah, it was pretty fucked up.”</p><p>Weasley’s head shot up in surprise. “Did you just swear?”</p><p>Pansy glowered at him. “What? Am I not allowed to?”</p><p>“Merlin no, just never expected you to swear. Thought you’d be too posh.” Weasley was grinning again, and Pansy wondered if she should check her butterbeer to see if it had been spiked because Merlin help her, she found it nice.</p><p>“Yes, well. I swear like a fucking lady, don’t I?” She shot back primly.</p><p>Weasley roared with laughter, his head tipped back in glee. “Merlins sack, you have changed!”</p><p>Pansy found herself smiling along with him, which was a thoroughly bizarre feeling. What would people say if they saw them? The War Hero and the Traitor. The realization made her groan and slouch in a manner that would have had her mother hexing her knuckles.</p><p>“Salazar’s beard, this is going to be all over the paper, isn’t it?” She moaned.</p><p>Weasley flushed and stopped laughing. “Might get lucky?” He said doubtfully, then sighed. “Nah, you’re probably right. That bug Skeeter is probably already scribbling away.”</p><p>“Ugh, that vile woman. I never realised just how much she made up out of whole cloth until this year.” Pansy said morosely, taking another swig of her butterbeer and wrinkling her upturned nose.</p><p>Weasley huffed. “Yeah, we coulda told you that. Pretty sure you provided some of her fodder.” He said slyly.</p><p>Pansy found herself flushing in something akin to humiliation. “Yes, well. I’ve <i>changed</i> as you put it. I swear and refuse to gossip to bitchy reporters.” She eyed him speculatively. “Though, speaking of gossip, how on earth did Draco manage to cosy up with Gryffindors Princess? I would have thought she’d have hexed him for breathing near her.”</p><p>Weasley screwed up his face again. “Wouldn’t have bloody blamed her. But she says he’s changed and they’re getting on now. If I say anything about it I get the world’s longest letters about how she’s perfectly able to make her own choices.” He took a deep draught of his butter beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’d rather avoid that, so I just said I’d hex him if he’s a prick and left it at that.”</p><p>Pansy frowned at him. “And you aren’t worried about your girlfriend spending time with him?” She’d be worried about a boyfriend of hers spending time with someone like Granger, that’s for sure.</p><p>“We broke up about a week ago. Just wasn’t working the way we thought it would.” Weasley pulled his lips to one side in a gesture that said ‘what are you gonna do’ and shrugged. “I’m kinda glad we’re just friends again, to be honest.”</p><p>“Huh.” Pansy sat back in shock. “We all thought you guys would end up together forever. Even before… everything. Some people thought Potter, but I always put my money on you and Granger having your own red headed brood someday.”</p><p>Weasley ran a tongue over his teeth and grimaced. “Nah, I think that might have been part of the problem. After she left for Hogwarts I was sitting at the pub one night thinking about how I couldn’t wait for her to finish so we could settle down, and I realised how un-Hermione that was. Everyone knows she’s ambitious and will probably be Minister one day, and there was me with the only future in my mind being for her to slow down. Didn’t seem fair. Plus it turns out she was thinking along the same lines. So there you go, back to friends.”</p><p>Pansy blinked at him for a moment before hiding her surprise behind her butterbeer. “Wow, that sounds… surprisingly mature.” She scowled when Weasley started laughing again. “What?”</p><p>“Apparently Malfoy said the same thing. He overheard us and went to check on Hermione after. She told me he said it was ‘the most mature breakup he’d ever seen.’ Said that made her feel heaps better about it.” He grinned at her again. “Apparently we all just need a Slytherin to cheer us up after a breakup.”</p><p>Pansy tried very hard not to blush at the accidental innuendo. “I guess we all have to pay our dues.” She sniffed, then finished the last of her butterbeer. “But I must dash. Thanks for the rescue Weasley.”</p><p>Weasley finished his own beer and jammed his atrocious hat back over his shaggy hair. “No worries Parkinson.” He stood up and teetered awkwardly on the balls of his feet for a second. “Hey, look. If anything like today happens again, get to my brother George’s shop. He’ll hide you if need be.”</p><p>Pansy bit her lip and looked up at him. “Would he?”</p><p>Weasley nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have a chat with him later and make sure he knows you might drop around. But he’s tired of all the fighting too, so he’ll be happy to put a stop to some of it at least.”</p><p>Pansy found her lips curving in a tremulous smile. This was the nicest anyone had been to her since she’d cocked it all up by trying to hand over Potter. “Thanks Weasley.”</p><p>“No worries Parkinson. And if you need me, just get George to floo me or send an owl. Harry and Hermione are right, we’ve all got to put this shit behind us. We were all kids, and kids sometimes make dumb fucking choices. Believe me, I <i>know</i>.” Weasley started walking towards the door of the dingy pub with her, and she wondered what the story behind the dark look on his face was.</p><p>Pansy charmed her hair back to blonde before they stepped out, then stowed her wand and delicately held her hand out to Weasley. “You’re right. We do need to put the past behind us, lest we end up with another bloody war. Thank you again Weasley, maybe I’ll see you around.”</p><p>Weasley had no idea how to give a proper handshake, rough and too vigorous. But as they separated, Pansy thought that that was probably rather fitting.</p><p>-</p><p>Pansy spent the next two weeks reconnecting with Draco by Owl, and by the time Christmas rolled around was certain that he’d developed a raging and very unrequited crush on the frizzy nightmare he was apparently stalking around Hogwarts. Every time Pansy thought that unkind taunt about the so called Brightest Witch of Her Age, she tamped it down by trying to remember how Weasley had said she’d changed. Perhaps if she changed enough then she’d be able to go out in public without a glamour to hide behind sometime.</p><p>She’d hoped to never have to take Weasley up on his offer of sanctuary in his brother’s shop, but fate (and Draco) intervened. The week before Christmas, she received a frantic owl from Draco begging her to help him by going to buy a specific book for Granger so he could give it to her for Christmas because he’d apparently bollocksed everything up somehow and needed to say sorry with a rare bloody book that couldn’t be ordered and had to be personally collected. And of course having newly acquired a bleeding heart from somewhere, Pansy grumbled her way out of the brand new townhouse she’d used her imprisoned parents money to buy and into the crowds of Christmas shoppers.</p><p>In her ire, she forgot a glamour and was spotted nigh on immediately.</p><p>The first warning she got was a yell that had her turning towards the source. The second was a hurled rock connecting with her left cheekbone. She felt a crack and stumbled in pain, her vision swimming as the crowd around her gasped and then murmured in recognition. When Pansy saw someone bend down to pick up another rock, she bolted like a frightened deer.</p><p>She was thankfully only two shops away from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and she threw herself through the door of the garish shop just as another rock hit her in the back, making her stumble over the threshold and knock over a stand of charmed dragon toys.</p><p>Staggering up to the counter she pleaded with the red head in a purple suit behind it. “You’re a Weasley, right? Your brother said I could hide in here if I got in trouble!” She glanced over her shoulder and saw the crowd outside milling about, seemingly unwilling to storm a shop belonging to a Weasley in this day and age.</p><p>The man flipped up a section of the counter and pointed to the door behind him. “Back there. I’ll deal with this.” She saw him square his shoulders and stalk to the front door of the shop as she slammed into the backroom of the shop.</p><p>It was not a storeroom like she had expected, but a rather homey little office with only one desk and chair even though there looked to be a whole side of the room unoccupied by any sort of furniture. She noted that the bin had rather a lot of empty firewhiskey bottles in it and remembered that one of the Weasley twins had died in the battle. Swallowing down her residual guilt for her cowardice while people were fighting and dying to protect everyone from her ilk, she tried to remember that she was going to change and be better.</p><p>Pansy couldn’t see anywhere to sit except the chair behind the desk and she didn’t want to appear presumptuous, so she chose to stand and breath through the pain in her cheekbone instead. Gingerly raising her fingers to inspect it, she hissed in pain at the barest bush against her face. Glumly, she realised it must be broken. She hoped she could leave soon so she could go to Mungo’s and get it healed. She was pants at healing spells.</p><p>She was cursing herself a fool for the fourth time when the door opened and the red headed man came back and walked over to squint at her cheek.</p><p>“You okay? That bruising looks nasty.” His voice was a bit rougher than his brothers, and he was shorter and stockier, but even beyond the freckles and hair the resemblance was undeniable.</p><p>“I’m… I think my cheekbone is broken. Are they gone? I need to get to a healer.” Pansy whimpered a little. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain was setting in and she was feeling quite battered and sorry for herself.</p><p>The Weasley in front of her (George she finally remembered) hummed and pulled out his wand. “Want me to fix it? Me and… I learnt to do broken bones pretty well with all the experimenting on jokes.”</p><p>Pansy dropped her hand away from her face and nodded hesitantly. “Please.” She asked.</p><p>George pointed his wand carefully at her face and cast an <i>Episky</i> then gently probed with his stained fingers to check the bone was healed. “That should do it.” He waved his wand to transfigure a box into a plump armchair and then leaned on his cluttered desk with his arms crossed. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”</p><p>Pansy suddenly found herself crying in an overstuffed armchair with a Weasley awkwardly patting her shoulder. “Ever since the Prophet had that article about what I said at the Battle I can barely go out in public without someone stopping me to yell at me. Or worse.” She sobbed. “I know I was stupid, but can’t they just leave me alone? I was just trying to help a friend today and they threw rocks at me!”</p><p>George sighed wearily. “Yeah, people are pretty angry right now and looking for targets. Doesn’t mean that they can take it out on you though.” He hunkered down in front of her. “Ron’ll be here in a minute, he’s got the day off. Do you need anything until then?”</p><p>Pansy pulled out her handkerchief to mop up her tears and shook her head miserably. “No, thank you for letting me hide in here.”</p><p>George patted her knee and stood to go back into his shop, opening the office door just as Weasley arrived on the other side of it.</p><p>“What happened? You said Parkinson got hurt?” Weasley stood just out of her line of sight, but he sounded upset.</p><p>“Yeah, she’s in here.” George jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Needed an episky. There was a whole bloody mob out there. Chased ‘em off, but I can’t believe we’re dealing with this shit now. Haven’t they learned anything?” He growled, his face stony.</p><p>Weasley stepped past his brother with a clap on his shoulder as the shorter man walked past him to tend his shop. “Thanks George, ‘preciate it.” Crossing to where Pansy sat and hunkering down exactly the same way his brother had, he checked Pansy’s tear-stained face. “You okay? George patch you up alright?”</p><p>Pansy pointed to her cheekbone. “Yeah, he got rid of the crowd and then came back to heal me. You didn’t have to come.” She added softly.</p><p>Weasley waved a hand vaguely through the air. “Wasn’t doing anything when George called, figured I’d come check on you. Do you want to use George’s Floo to get out of here?”</p><p>Pansy shook her head. “Can’t, I have a private Floo, haven’t bothered to set it up to recognise me yet so it only connects to certain places.”</p><p>Weasley rubbed a thumb over his chin. “Well, George did a pretty good job of getting everyone to piss off, but I think a few tossers are still hanging about. So how about you come back to mine and have a cup of tea instead of risking the walk to the apparition point?”</p><p>Pansy straightened in shock. “Come back to yours? For <i>tea</i>?” She asked incredulously. First she’s buying Granger a present because Draco pissed her off somehow and now Weasley is asking her to come to his place for tea. What was the world coming to?</p><p>Weasley set his jaw mulishly and the tips of his ears went bright red. “No need to be like that about it, Parkinson. I was just trying to be nice.”</p><p>Pansy deflated a little. He probably was, and he was probably the only person who would right now. “Sorry, it’s just… been a long day.” She licked her lips nervously. “Tea would actually be lovely.”</p><p>Weasley turned out to share an old townhouse with Potter. The place was grim, but Pansy could see that they’d obviously been trying to fix it up, the peeling wallpaper had been stripped from two walls and replaced with a soft ivory paint. When Weasley led her through to the kitchen she was surprised to see the ugliest house elf she’d ever seen crawling out from a cupboard upon their entry.</p><p>“Master Weasley be needing something?” The creaky old elf asked then looked at Pansy with squinted eyes. “Blood-traitor be bringing home a proper witch now, no Mudblood.” He muttered under his breath, causing Pansy to gasp in shock.</p><p>Weasley shooed the elf away. “Bugger off Kreacher. I think the attic needs dusting.” Once the elf had slouched away he turned back to Pansy with a resigned head shake. “Bloody mental, he is. Harry inherited him with the place and sometimes he loves us, sometimes he’s like that. He can be a right legend sometimes though.”</p><p>Pansy looked around at the kitchen with its long wooden table and collection of pots and mismatched mugs on the shelves, it was clearly more lived in than the receiving room had been and radiated coziness and warmth. “That’s quite alright. I was just shocked to hear it talk like that. I figured any elf you had would be more…” She gestured to convey ‘everything but that’.</p><p>“Hah, yeah. Hermione is getting through to him, but he still does it when he’s tired or grumpy.” Weasley waved her to the kitchen table and grabbed a kettle. “Have a seat, I’ll get a pot going. Do you like milk and sugar?”</p><p>“Um, just milk thanks.” Pansy watched Weasley make the tea, struck by the odd domesticity of it. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a human make tea before unless it was some sort of performative pissing match, but Weasley moved with familiarity as he efficiently prepared the water and tea leaves. When the tea was set before her in a large chipped mug she swallowed down her dismay at the vessel and took a sip. “Thank you, that’s perfect.”</p><p>“Welcome.” Weasley grunted and took a sip from his own mug. “So, did you only get hit on the face?”</p><p>Pansy turned her face away from his keen scrutiny. “I caught one on the back too, but I think it’s just a bruise.”</p><p>Weasley sighed and summoned a jar from one of the many cupboards in the kitchen. “One of the bonuses to being a Weasley, unlimited access to bruise paste. Mum makes Fred and George give it to us for free whenever one of their pranks leaves a bruise on us.” His mouth tugged down at the corners as he turned the gaudy green jar over in his large hands, and Pansy supposed he was thinking of his dead brother.</p><p>“I was sorry to hear about your brother. I never wanted to admit it, but I thought the twins were funny.” Pansy placed one of her delicate hands over Weasley’s rough one in comfort.</p><p>“Thanks Parkinson. Fred would have wanted to be remembered that way.” He handed her the pot and knuckled a tear away from his glassy eyes. “You can keep the jar, Merlin knows I’ve got a million.”</p><p>Pansy hesitated a moment before opening the jar and scooping a little paste onto her fingers. Slipping her hand under her collar to discretely apply the paste, she exhaled in frustration when she realised she couldn’t reach the bruise spreading over her back. “I’ll have to do it later, I can’t reach.” She cast around for a napkin to wipe her fingers on and Weasley passed her a clean dishtowel.</p><p>“It works best if you use it right away. You can use the bathroom through there.” He licked his lips and flushed a little under his freckles. “Or I can pop it on for you. Godric knows I had to help Harry and Hermione enough times over the last year.”</p><p>Pansy watched him from underneath her lashes for a moment before deciding, then stretched out her hand with the green jar in it. “Could you? I’d have to use magic, and that never quite works right.” Once he took the jar and moved to stand behind her, Pansy opened the top few buttons of her robe and slipped them down her shoulders just enough to give him access to the bruise.</p><p>Weasley sucked in a breath. “Merlin, that’s not just a bruise Parkinson.” She felt the calloused tips of his fingers brush the bruise then retreat only to return slick with bruise paste. “You look like you caught a bludger to the back.”</p><p>Pansy couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so she went with snarky. “You know, seeing as you have me topless in your kitchen, you may as well call me Pansy.” She snipped, staring at the gleaming copper pots hanging on the wall. “And of course I shall call you Ron. Merlin knows there’s enough bloody Weasleys that calling you <i>that</i> is just going to get confusing.”</p><p>Weasley barked a laugh behind her and accidentally pressed too hard on a sore spot, drawing a hiss from Pansy. “Sorry. Sounds good <i>Pansy</i>.”</p><p>Pansy bit back a giggle and nearly expired from mortification that she was giggling with him. “I suppose that’s that then, <i>Ron</i>.” She replied, keeping her tone as measured as she could.</p><p>Feeling Ron’s hands deftly apply the bruise paste, Pansy wished she could believe that he was so skilled at administering it solely because his brothers were trouble makers, and not because he’d had to fight for his life against impossible odds. But she’d seen the condition the so-called ‘Golden Trio’ had been in when they arrived at Hogwarts. The war had battered even the victorious.</p><p>Pansy felt the paste begin to work, the soreness drifting out of her muscles as Ron massaged it into the skin of her back. Eventually his fingers slowed and then stopped, resting lightly against her back. Pansy swore she felt the air turn thick and charged the exact second he stopped moving. Pansy tipped her head around to peek at Ron.</p><p>He swallowed thickly and removed his fingers just a hairs breadth away from her skin, still so close she could still feel the heat of them prickling against her skin. “How’s that?” He asked, his voice suddenly rough despite how softly he spoke.</p><p>Even as she did it, Pansy knew it was probably a terrible idea. But Ron had shown her kindness for the first time in months and though she hadn’t realised it until this exact moment, it had made her genuinely like him. So she stood up slowly and stepped around the chair until she was standing chest to chest with him, clutching her robe to her with one hand. Ron’s blue eyes blinked down at her while his hand still hovered in the air, and Pansy realised just how <i>tall</i> he was.</p><p>Then because that wouldn’t do, she reached up with her free hand and pulled him down to her level by the nape of his neck and pressed her lips to his.</p><p>Ron stood frozen long enough that Pansy was sure she’d just made a horrible mistake. But just as she began to pull away, his long arm reached past her to deposit the jar of paste on the table and he reached up to cradle her cheeks in his palms. He kissed like he shook her hand, rough and with too much vigour, but Pansy decided that she absolutely did not care and met him kiss for kiss instead.</p><p>Within seconds Pansy had stopped holding her robes to her chest and was pushing Ron backwards into the counter with her hands gripping his hair and shoulder as her tongue sought to press past his lips. He opened up easily to her with a muffled groan and hauled her smaller body to his with one arm around her waist. Pansy gripped him harder and pushed into him, tangling her tongue with his until he was making more of those muffled sounds into her mouth, swallowing them down like fine wine.</p><p>She felt like she was on fire, heat radiating from Ron’s warm hand on her bare back and the hard press of his lips against hers. Letting go of his hair, she pushed her robes down her hips until they pooled at her booted feet and then grabbed the hem of his shirt to lift it over his head, breaking the frantic kiss.</p><p>“Bloody hell Pansy. You sure?” Ron’s hands were apparently sure, because he was already palming one of her small breasts through the thin pink silk brassier she wore.</p><p>“Yes. Now where’s your room? Because I refuse to do this in your kitchen.” Pansy kissed the light dusting of reddish blonde hair over his sternum and threw his shirt behind her, pushing him towards the door with impatient hands.</p><p>Laughing, Ron steered her by the hips out into the hallway and to the bottom of the staircase. “First floor, second door on the right.” His voice was husky and made Pansy shiver with delight as he turned her to walk up the stairs in front of him.</p><p>Half way up the stairs she smiled coyly over her shoulder and reached behind her back to undo her brassier then dropped it behind her on the stairs, laughing as Ron stopped dead with his face flushed and blue eyes wide at the sight of her in just her matching pink underwear and black ankle boots. “Well? Are you coming or not?”</p><p>Ron’s eyes snapped to hers and she squirmed at the heat in them. “Bloody hell Parkinson, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He growled, then swept her into his arms and up the final few steps and down the hallway.</p><p>Ron’s room was an odd mix of green wallpaper and glaring orange quidditch memorabilia, with a huge elaborately carved four-poster bed in one corner and some weights carelessly scattered in front of the antique dresser. When Ron lay her down on the orange comforter, Pansy locked her arms around his neck and dragged him down with her, kissing him deeply the whole time. He was heavy and solid, despite his rangy frame, and Pansy shifted her legs until he was pressed between them. His belt buckle dug into the soft skin of her stomach but the prominent erection pressing into her pelvis took her attention away from that quite nicely. Sliding her hands down to grab at Ron’s buttocks, she ground up against him and relished the way he swore against her lips and then buried his face in the crook of her neck.</p><p>“Trousers. Take them off.” She panted into his ear, grinding her hips against him again and running her hands up his spine in one firm stroke.</p><p>“Fuck.” Ron pushed his hips down into her for one delicious moment before lifting up to his knees and fumbling with his belt buckle. </p><p>He was flushed all the way down to his chest, and Pansy got her first real opportunity to ogle his naked torso. He had the beginnings of strong muscles and his skinniness meant that they were wiry and defined under his pale skin. Skin that was marred here and there with scars, like he’d been injured and not bothered to get them healed. One of his pink nipples was cut through with a thin white scar that started at his shoulder and curved all the way to his sternum, and another glanced across his rib in a series of short skips. Other small scars decorated his body and Pansy found herself running curious fingers over a spiralling network of roughened skin that twined up both of his arms from fingertip to shoulder.</p><p>Ron finally got his fly undone and managed to shuck his trousers and pants, freeing a surprisingly impressive erection. Pansy abandoned her mapping of his scars to run a fingertip from his coppery curls to the flared tip then eased back his foreskin and wrapped her fingers around him just below his glans. Ron’s cock wasn’t enormously long, maybe only a bit over seven inches, but her fingers didn’t meet at all as she slowly moved her hand down his shaft to the base and then back up again. She imagined how it would feel inside her and flushed with want.</p><p>Suddenly Ron hooked his thumbs into the sides of her knickers. “Do you mind?” He asked, surprisingly polite given the circumstances.</p><p>“Oh, by all means.” Pansy tightened her hand on the next pass over his cock with a wicked grin.</p><p>Once she was divested of her knickers and boots, Ron lay on his side next to her and trailed one hand over the smooth skin of her leg. “Y’know, if I’d known you looked like this under your uniform I’d have made a pass at you years ago.” The callouses on his fingers lightly scratched the sensitive skin on her inner thighs, making her shiver with pleasure as she reached down to resume her attention to his erection.</p><p>“And I’d have broken your heart. At least until I figured out you looked like this under your own robes.” She smiled to take the bite out of her words and pulled him over on top of her again, feeling the naked weight of his cock rest against her folds. Her very <i>wet</i> folds.</p><p>This time it was Ron who took the initiative, kissing her hot and filthy as his weight bore down on her. His hands stroked all of the pampered skin he could reach, making her pant and tremble when he skimmed her sides or flicked a pebbled nipple. When he kissed his way down to her collarbones and then took a nipple in his mouth, she writhed and keened. When she raked her sharp nails down his back, he bucked and groaned.</p><p>“I swear to Salazar Weasley, if you don’t get your astonishingly spectacular cock inside me right now…” She let the threat trail off and squeezed his buttocks warningly.</p><p>Lifting off of her nipple with a wet pop, Ron rested his chin between her breasts with a boyish grin. “Dunno, not sure I have sex with people I’m not on a first name basis with.” He cheeked, grinding into her slightly to get his point across.</p><p>Pansy rolled her eyes and fought the grin that tugged at her mouth. “Fine, then. Please <i>Ronald</i>, would you kindly fuck me through your awful orange bed?” She batted her eyelashes winsomely and pouted her pink lips at him.</p><p>Ron laughed that full laugh of his and lifted up to kiss her again. “Oh, when you put it that way.” Still laughing slightly, he reached between them and gripped his cock to line them up. “Ready?”</p><p>When Pansy nodded enthusiastically he slowly pushed into her waiting heat. She shuddered all the way from her toes to the crown of her head at the way he felt stretching her until she was lusciously full of him and he was seated completely inside her. He moved almost immediately, a slow drag back out that left her gasping and clenching until he pushed back in with a little more force. He continued this pattern, a slow hot drag followed by a sharper thrust back in that made her breasts jiggle and her stomach tighten.</p><p>“Bloody hell! You feel fucking amazing Pansy.” Ron mouthed at the skin just under her ear, his teeth just barely grazing at her neck. She turned her head to give him better access and wrapped her legs around him, resting her feet at the back of his thighs to give herself enough leverage to meet his thrusts and grind him in further.</p><p>“Ugh! Just like that. Oh fuuuuuck.” Her voice rose in pitch as he dropped his hips down lower, causing the head of his cock to rub up against a particular spot inside her on every thrust. Pansy had had sex with a few different people, but never had she felt her orgasm build this fast. Every clash of their hips stoked the hot tension inside her belly, every scratch of his stubble against her neck or cheek sent sparks directly to where he was pounding into her.</p><p>As he kept the steady pace, Pansy threw her head back, pushing her small breasts into his chest and keening like she never had before. Every thought narrowed on the man between her thighs as his throaty voice joined hers and he drove her slowly to the very edge of her orgasm with a surety that made it feel like a foregone conclusion rather than a perk that may or may not come with sex.</p><p>“Ron!” She gasped, flattening her hands on either side of his tailbone and pushing down as hard as she could. “Harder! Please, I’m so fucking close.” She whimpered.</p><p>With a hoarse groan, Ron snaked his arms under her and hooked his hands over her shoulders. Using his new grip, Pansy realised he could slam her entire body into his as he pushed up into hers. The resultant orgasm shocked her with how fast it crashed over her. Biting into the muscle at the top of his shoulder, she tried to muffle her scream as she clamped down on his cock and writhed under him in the throes of pure untainted pleasure. She’d never seen stars before when she came, but she saw the whole damned universe right now.</p><p>When her vision cleared and she could think again, Ron was lying on top of her breathing heavily and being careful not to rest his full weight on her.</p><p>“Thank Merlin you came when you did, I don’t think I could have held out any longer.” Ron grumbled good-naturedly.</p><p>Pansy burst into bright laughter and covered her eyes with one hand. “You are terrible at pillow talk Ronald Weasley.”</p><p>Laughing with her, Ron slid his softening cock out of her and pushed her up so he could pull the blankets over her. “Speaking of.” He yawned hugely into her shoulder. “Fancy a quick kip then another go?” He asked hopefully.</p><p>Pansy rested her head on his warm shoulder and smiled dozily. “Sounds wonderful.”</p><p>-</p><p>Pansy woke warm and disappointingly alone underneath the horrid orange sheets. Before she could feel more than a quick stab of confusion though, she noticed a scrap of folded parchment floating right where she could see it next to the bed. Reaching out she snagged it out of the air and flipped it open to see a note in messy scrawled handwriting.</p><p>
  <i> Sorry Pansy, </i>
</p><p>
  <i>George called me for an emergency. I should only be an hour, but make yourself at home. You can borrow some of my clothes if you need to.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ron. </i>
</p><p>Feeling better about his absence and looking forward to a repeat upon his return, Pansy stretched like a satisfied cat and decided that a cup of tea sounded like just the thing. After a bit of rummaging she managed to find an old Quidditch shirt with his name across the back and a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms that probably belonged to Granger at one point. Slipping them on, she padded across the room and stepped into the hall.</p><p>As she did she realised she had forgotten one very important thing. Ron didn’t live alone.</p><p>Staring into the extremely shocked green eyes of The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, Pansy decided that her best option was to brazen it out. So she closed Ron’s door with a decisive click and meandered past Potter with a cheeky wave.</p><p>“Do be a dear and put on a pot of tea, would you Potter?”</p>
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